In the Middle of the Night
by LittleRedOne
Summary: You feel like such a creeper, but as she sighs and drums her nails along the table you can't help but slink back farther into the shadows" Short oneshot. Past Smitchie. Current Mitchie/OC. From OC's POV.


**A/N:**I've been going through my half-written stories and trying to finish them. Once I do that I can concentrate on new chapters and new oneshots with out being distracted. I don't know where this idea came from originally. I liked trying my hand at a different style of writing though.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Camp Rock.

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It's the middle of the night and not for the first time you find yourself standing in the dark corner of your kitchen – the one the moonlight can't possibly reach. You feel like such a creeper, but as she sighs and drums her nails along the table you can't help but slink back farther into the shadows, praying she won't see you as you watch her. And the thing is you know she won't. This isn't the first time you've done this (and it definitely won't be the last). She won't see anything around her because she's too busy seeing what once was. You used to hate her doing this all the time, but in a twisted way, you grew to love it. Maybe it's the peaceful look on her face these nights. It's beautiful seeing her so happy, so at ease. So you lean against the wall and watch her, ignoring the pang in your chest as she closes her eyes and starts humming that old tune. It makes you love her even more, despite the fact she's thinking about him - again.

You think back on the first night you stumbled down to the kitchen for a late night snack - you hadn't even realized she wasn't beside you in the bed anymore. You'd rounded the corner, hoping to find a piece of her mother's sweet berry pie left and saw her there. You remember the way it made your heart stop, sucked the air right out of your lungs. She's come a long way since then. She had been crying, but it wasn't the tears that had rendered you incapable of moving toward her. It was the _way_ the tears came. She wasn't sobbing - you could have handled sobbing - it was those scary tears. It was like she was in a trance. _Possessed,_ you'd thought for a split second before realizing the stupidity of the idea. Tears poured down her face and all she did was stare out at the stars, past the stars. It was like she didn't even realize they were there. She was so caught up in whatever she was thinking she didn't notice anything. Your next thought had been that someone must have died and you'd panicked. You'd rushed forward, kneeling before her and grabbing her hands in yours.

"Honey," you'd breathed. "Honey what's wrong? What happened? Is somebody hurt?"

Her eyes had been unfocused as she looked at you, tears still falling. She'd looked down at your hands, blinked, back at your face, blinked, then looked around the room, realizing where she was again. It had taken a moment for her to speak. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Are you okay?" you'd asked again. "Did something happen?"

She'd just smiled sweetly at you and shook her head. "Nothing happened. I was just reliving some memories I missed."

You'd smiled a little in relief. Nobody was hurt. Everything was okay. She was just thinking of something in the past. "Why don't you come back up to bed? You should really get some sleep. Tomorrow's a big day remember? Your best friend is getting married."

"I know," she'd nodded. "You go on back up. I'll be along in just a minute."

You'd nodded back and kissed her forehead before retreating from the kitchen, pie forgotten. One thing you'd never forgotten was the tears. Even as you had talked to her and she had smiled at you, they hadn't stopped falling.

You snap out of your memory as her humming gets louder. You can practically hear the words, ready to escape her lips. That'll be your cue to leave soon. She'll start singing her song and you'll smile. Next she'll sing his, and you'll start to back away. It's the next one though, _theirs_, that becomes too much for you. That's when it starts to hurt the most. Up until those songs you can pretend that she's thinking about you.

You can pretend she's smiling about how you met, laughing softly about your brother's costume party, anything that has to do with you. They're the things you think about as you watch her. But when the songs come it's clear she's thinking about him and the rest of the night you are too.

You think about how he used to send her a gift every week he was away to make up for his absence and how you can't afford that. You think about all the songs that he's written her and how you're no good with words – only colors and images. You think about your wedding and how he was there (and you saw her looking at him). You think about her best friend's wedding - the day after the first night of tears - and how you'd allowed him to have her hand for a dance (or three).

You think about how much of an idiot you are. How could you not have noticed how much she was still in love with him? Everything started to make sense to you the first time you heard her sing their song. You felt like such a fool. She'd married you though. She vowed to love you till death - not him.

You suppose you should be thankful – she only sits in the kitchen crying about a love lost instead of being out and rekindling that love. You remember her hate for cheaters and know she'd swore she'd never become one. And you believe it.

It's time now - she's starting their song. You sneak away from the kitchen and back up to your bed. That's it for tonight but you know you'll be back in the middle of the night tomorrow for more of the heartbreak. If that's what it takes to see her so happy you'll endure it for her sake. Your head hits the pillow and you sleepily whisper words you know she'll never hear.

_"Goodnight. I love you."_


End file.
